by Alex Reece
He hung there through the torture and pain,
As we sinned and refused him harshly in vain.
“Forgive them they know not what they do,” said he,
But we thought our lives were ours; his servant, we wouldn't be.
We continued in sin, with just one though:
I'll fix it later, now I care not.
He was mocked and scourged by soldiers bitterly,
But all sin is transgression, so an equivalent are we.
If it is an equivalent, then we are guilty,
We killed Jesus from our sins done carelessly.
So let us rebel against the world and against sin,
so we won't be guilty, thus pure once again.
They'll all say we're weird, and us, they'll persecute,
but compared to eternity, this time is minute.
Rebellion is the answer, and denial of sin,
So righteously we'll go until our lives come to end.
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